Excalibur

Quinn’s voice sounded very far away. Turcotte frowned as he tried to understand through the fog of exhaustion. “We won?” “We won, Mike.”

“Good,” Turcotte muttered. “That’s good.”

“Mike?” Quinn’s voice took on an edge. “Where are you? Are you all right? Are you on your way back?”

“Duncan?” Turcotte whispered.

“No sign, but I’m still checking.”

“But we won?” Turcotte asked once more as if not believing what he was hearing. “Yes, sir.”

“Finally.” The phone slid from Turcotte’s hand onto his lap next to Excalibur.

Quinn’s voice was very far away now, fading out. “Mike? Are you all right? Can you make it back?”

“I don’t think so,” Turcotte whispered as he closed his eyes and slid sideways, resting partly on Merlin’s frozen body. “But at least we won.”